The Flame that Never Dies
by Bay Eckroad
Summary: When Marius dies on the barricade instead of Eponine, she embarks on an unforeseen journey to figure out what really matters in life and where her true loyalties lie. To her chagrin, she is joined by an obnoxious drunk she hardly knows - Grantaire. AU, some E/R, and lots of dramatics.
1. Acceptance

**Okay guys, my first fic ever! This is more of an experiment than anything, I don't think it will be that long. But hey, you never know. My only real goal for this is to get this story out of my head and onto paper and stay true to the characters. I guess we'll just have to see how this goes, right? Happy reading! R&R, my loves! xx BE**

Ever since the first gunshot rang out, Eponine had been filled with a terror stronger than she had ever felt in her life. Yes, she had lived mainly on the streets for years and seen things no girl should ever see. She had taken beatings from her father, run from the police, faced potential danger every moment of her life - but it had never been like this. On the barricade, with bullets flying past her, the danger was too real, too close. Death to herself and the Amis was no longer a distant future, or inevitability; instead, death was happening all around her as she reloaded rifles and ran from place to place, trying not to slip on the pavement slick with blood and rain. It was suffocating and absolutely, undoubtedly terrifying.

Eponine Thenardier was no coward. She considered herself quite brave, actually, much braver than the average person her age. But when it came down to it, real-life battle was nothing she could have possibly prepared for. It was absolute hell. The schoolboys around her were being slaughtered by the National Guard. Every second another dropped to the ground, clutching his side or chest where the bullet had struck him, eyes wide in pain and the sudden realization that he would not be living to see the next day. Most seemed to die almost instantly, but the ones who didn't were the worst. They writhed and spasmed where they fell, crying out for anything at all to save them. Those who had been so brave just seconds ago were reduced to pitiful shams by death.

She would like to have said that she didn't fear the end of her life. She was proud, and a proud person doesn't admit fear. But when it came down to it, death was about as frightening as anything could get. When it was all around her, so close and so real, it was near-crippling. Never in her life had she been so certain of anything as the fact that _she did not want to die_.

Maybe someday. In the past, it had occasionally seemed like a possible escape. But Eponine was not ready for that escape, not yet.

And so she fought, like she had never fought before. It was less actual shooting and more handing up ammunition and loaded rifles to the students atop the barricade. But she was still desperately fighting for her life. If the National Guard climbed over the barricade, it was all over. They would be shot point-blank, no questions asked, no time for excuses. All those who had joined the rebellion would be killed without hesitation. She knew that, and from the way the others around her were furiously defending themselves, the Amis were quite aware also. They were all working together to save themselves, and for some, France.

But who the hell was she kidding? She would take her life over a country any day.

Next to her, another man who had been loading a rifle with gunpowder crumpled to the ground. Trying to stay impassive, not letting herself look at his wound, Eponine bent and retrieved the firearm. She finished the job the now-dead man had started, gripped by terror. What if the Guardsman had been aiming just a fraction of an inch to his right? Despite herself, she stole a look at the Ami. _That could have been me. I could be dead. _ Then she handed the rifle to another who was standing above her, taking the gun he gave her and reloading it. She determinedly ignored the dead body beside her and the cries of the wounded all around. She could not think about any of it - there was no time to think, no time at all. If she thought, she was dead. There was only acting - switch guns with the revolutionary above her, reload, repeat. Feel nothing at all for those around you. Stay numb to stay alive. Later, she could mourn the dead with the others - but a dead girl could do nothing. Her only priority was to keep going.

It did not take long for the opposing forces to gain ground. Soon, the first uniformed men appeared above her, climbing over the stacked furniture that had seemed so protective not long ago. Eponine felt her heart race uncontrollably as she did her job. This was the end. She would be dead soon, she knew it. There was no way the Amis could hold off the Guard - they had been foolish to think a revolution could have possibly been successful. Who would join such a cause? Who would become just another dead body to be found in the morning? Certainly not the people of Paris, who slept soundly, possibly unaware of the carnage around them. They did not care about the poor, or if they did, it was not enough to sacrifice their lives for. And who could blame them? If given the choice, now that she was faced with the imminent possibility of a bullet in her chest, she would happily join them. She would rather be dirt-poor, oppressed, a thief and gamine all her life than die so soon.

Death, when inescapable, was suddenly the most terrifying.

Of course, there was one thing worth fighting for. Eponine was not stupid; she had not joined the fighting with delusional dreams of a new France and equality. While a good idea in theory, it meant nothing to her. She had accepted her tragic fate long ago. No, she had a much different reason to join the Revolution. Not long ago, she had befriended one of the young schoolboys, by the name of Marius. He had shown her kindness and quite honestly turned her life upside-down. Marius Pontmercy, a young scholar, was her one beam of golden sunlight in a dark, dismal world. What he saw as an unlikely friendship was something more for Eponine. She loved him. It was simply, but not quite simply, that - she loved him more than life itself. She loved him enough to follow him devotedly to this barricade in hell where there was no real hope of survival. She loved him blindly, and he was blind in the way that he did not see her love for him.

Just days ago, though it had seemed like a lifetime, Marius had fallen in love. And it was not with Eponine - rather, he had fallen for a beautiful, bourgeois girl, Eponine's opposite in every way. Marius had begged her to play messenger for them, ferrying letters of love back and forth between the two lovers. Eponine complied, of course. As much as she hated herself for furthering his love of the girl, Cosette, she could never refuse anything Marius requested. She was powerless when it came to him. It tore her apart, watching the romance unfold.

She loved him so, so much that it ached. But he would never know.

And so she was there on the barricade. She was there, staring down the enemy, staring down death itself. And so the army was advancing, and so she knew that she would soon die.

* * *

**So, I know this first chapter wasn't very long and did absolutely nothing to further the plot. But I needed it to set the stage, as well as just get something out there for people to see. I promise the next one will be much more interesting. ;) xx BE**


	2. Sorrow

Eponine, accepting her imminent death, scanned the barricade frantically, looking for Marius. She hoped to get a glimpse of her one true love before she died. Even if he didn't love her back and he never would, he would be a good last sight before passing on.

The fear that had been present so long returned as she realized that she had not seen Marius for quite some time and could not find him, either. Could he have been shot? At the beginning of the battle she had made sure to keep an eye on him to make sure he was all right, but the intensity of revolution had quickly swept her up and distracted her. Terror gripped her as she imagined his cold body lying on the street with all the others.

_I would rather have myself die,_ she thought, desperate for a glimpse of his familiar form. _I cannot go on without him. _Beside herself with panic, Eponine abandoned all caution and turned a full circle, frantic. He could not be dead already.

But then, she saw him, so bold, running out of the Cafe Musain accompanied by another she recognized as Combeferre. He was carrying in one hand what looked like a small barrel, and in the other a torch, probably taken from one of the sconces of the Cafe. She had no idea what he was doing, but at least he seemed uninjured. Relief washed over the girl. If Marius lived, maybe there had been some good to all this insanity.

If Marius lived, there remained a reason to live as well.

As she watched, heedless of the man above her whose rifle was out of ammunition and who she had left defenseless, Marius scrambled to the top of the barricade. He brandished the torch at the Guardsmen nearest and bellowed, "If you shoot, I kill us all!" It slowly dawned on her what he meant. The small barrel Marius carried was filled with gunpowder. He intended to blow up the barricade - or no, surely he meant to cease the battle. It was ingenious, really. And Marius was braver than ever in her eyes.

Immediately, the guns stopped firing. There was sudden, dead silence as Marius and the commander of the National Guard stared each other down. Everyone was watching them. But the commander did not back off, waiting to see if Marius was bluffing. He was not, however, and he lowered the torch slowly towards the barrel of gunpowder. "I'll do it." Eponine's heart nearly stopped beating.

The commander hesitated for half a second before yelling, "Retreat!", backing off the barricade. He did not break eye contact with Marius, who still held the torch dangerously close to the gunpowder. Finally, though, when the Guardsmen were all off the barricade and fleeing down the street, Enjolras, the leader of the revolution, roughly grabbed the torch from Marius' hand, looking both relieved and furious. Wordlessly, Marius dropped the barrel, seemingly stunned at what he had just done.

It was then that a single shot rang out. The leader of the Guard, now the last one making his escape around the corner of the street, had taken his tiny window of opportunity and fired. Eponine watched, breathless, as Marius slowly fell backwards, a red stain blooming across his chest.

She screamed, dropping the rifle she had been holding, and flew across the space separating them. Marius had fallen on the cobblestones, clutching his heart. She dropped to her knees, cradling his head in her arms, suddenly sobbing.

This was not real. This could not be happening. Just seconds ago she had watched him, so alive. The gunshot had happened in the blink of an eye, and suddenly it felt like she was the one dying, too. It had taken a split-second for her world to fall apart.

In the background she registered someone calling for Joly, the resident medic. But the only thing she cared about was her beloved. "Marius!" she cried out, stroking his hair. "Marius! You can't die on me, you can't." His face was contorted in pain, his eyes focusing on something distant as he gasped for breath. More blood poured from his wound by the second. She could almost see the life ebbing away from him.

Slowly, his eyes came to rest on her face. She fumbled with her cap, pulling it off her head to reveal her long hair. As it fell down her back, she numbly heard gasps of shock from those around her, but Marius struggled to smile. "'Ponine," he whispered, vacant. "You should not be here."

That was all he could say? That was all he could think of? She was hysterical, and there he was, dying, telling her to leave. "But I'm here," she replied, brushing her hand along his cheek. "And you can't die, Marius, you can't. Just hold on, please, hold on and Joly will get you fixed up." She pleaded with him, knowing inside that it was futile. She was no doctor, but she knew that nobody survived a bullet to the heart. His expression was becoming more disengaged by the second.

"Cosette!" she cried, thinking of the one thing that could make him cling to life. "Think of Cosette! If you can't live for me, live for her. You _love _her!" It was breaking her heart to say so, but her heart was already broken as Marius died in her arms. She would rather have him live, loving Cosette, than die. Marius alive in any condition was better than nothing. "You can't leave her. You're going to live, Marius, you'll live and you'll marry Cosette and you will have a long, happy life with her. Think of her. Do this for her. Do this for me!"

He didn't even bother to tell her that it was useless. Each breath was a struggle, and he was shaking now. "Tell Cosette," he whispered, his voice feeble. Eponine had to hold her ear close to his lips to hear. "I love her. Brave 'Ponine..." And then he could manage no more. Eponine sobbed as his breath became shallower and his eyes glazed over. She stroked his hair and face and spoke to him, urging him to live. It was futile, of course, but she had to do something. The Amis stood around her, silent and grim, many looking down at the pitiful gamine who held the boy she loved unrequitedly as he died.

"I love you," she whispered into his hair as his life slipped away. And suddenly nothing else mattered. Marius had been all she cared about for so long, she felt like all the happiness she had ever had was being drained away. She didn't care about the revolution. She didn't care that she was crying hysterically in front of boys she hardly knew. She cared about Marius, and Marius didn't care about her. He didn't care because he was dead.

Someone was bending down now, one of the other schoolboys, to pry Marius from her arms. "No," she whimpered, holding him to her, blinded by her tears. "No!" But the boy whispered something to her, something consoling, she didn't even know what, and she finally, numbly let go of Marius' body. She watched as he was carried away. She watched as the only thing that had ever made her truly happy was torn from her life. Eponine slumped to the ground, feeling broken, no will left to live.

_Marius is dead_, she thought. _So let me die, too._

* * *

Some time later, Eponine had not moved from her spot on the pavement. She knew she should get up, help the others, just run away, but she could not find it in herself to do anything. Some of the Amis had tried to convince her to move, but she just stared down at the ground dejectedly, not answering. Finally, they left her to her sorrow. They didn't know what to do with her.

Well, Eponine could relate.

She felt absolutely empty. What had started as overwhelming anguish and terror had slowly subsided into a kind of numbness. The words, "Marius is dead," had become hollow, devoid of meaning. She wallowed in self-pity there on the ground. Around her, the others tended the wounded and dead, kept watch, prepared for battle. None were happy, but still Eponine would give anything to be them. Happiness was unattainable for her, but certainly sadness would be better than feeling nothing. Anything would be better than feeling nothing.

Slowly, as if coming out of a particularly bad stupor, she became aware of Enjolras making an announcement. The leader of the revolutionaries seemed unfazed as ever, possibly more like a marble statue than usual. If that was even possible. He was describing plans for the battles to come, strategies and maneuvers and grand schemes.

It hit her then. There would be another attack. The Guardsmen would come again. Hell would return. How could he speak of it so fearlessly? Was he not broken after what had just happened?

The fool still thought they stood a chance. If Marius had not pulled his stunt with the powder keg, all of them would be dead by then. Staying at the barricade was a death wish. The next time the National Guard came, they would be more prepared, and the Amis, small to begin with and now even fewer in number, would stand no chance in the least. If Eponine wanted to live at all - and she was pretty sure she did not - she would have to get away. By this time tomorrow, the barricade would be devoid of life.

_Good_, the girl thought. _Let me be gone and see my Marius in heaven._ She immediately retracted the statement in her mind, though. She was a Thenardier. She had done awful things in her lifetime of thievery and deceit. While maybe not as bad as her father, she was still no saint. Not even close. Marius, with his heart of gold, would surely be in heaven soon, but Eponine's heart was more tarnished brass and she knew that if she died, she would not be joining Marius. A Thenardier was destined for hell. Somewhere deep inside her was a wail of despair - not even death could bring her to her love.

"We need someone to find out about their plans of attack, their weapons and numbers," Enjolras was saying, preaching to the students. They seemed certainly less determined than they had earlier. Now that they had seen the horrors of war, the light of revolution had died in their eyes. Enjolras was the only one who still seemed to have any spirit left whatsoever. "Is there anyone here who is uninjured and willing? Mind you, the task will be dangerous, but it can be done."

Eponine eventually registered what he was saying. Enjolras needed a spy. Someone who knew the streets well, who wasn't injured and who had no fear. Suddenly, her mind began to work furiously and her numbness began to subside. A tiny gleam of hope appeared. Marius was dead, so she had no need to stay at the barricade. This could be the perfect way to escape. Go out as a spy and never return. No matter what information they had, the boys had no chance at survival, so what harm could it do? And Eponine would live. She would live, a thought that was becoming more and more appealing as she realized that death would do her no favors. She didn't know where she would go, since her father had disowned her, or what she would do to get food, but certainly she could figure something out. She always did.

But first thing first - she needed a way out of the barricade.

Slowly, she raised her head from the ground and made an executive decision as she did so. "I'll go," she said. Enjolras and many of the others turned, surprised. They had resigned the girl to muteness in her sorrow. She spoke again, louder, with more conviction.

"I'll be your spy."

**Did you really think I would let our heroine die so soon? And please review, I need feedback. Even if you just bash this story so far, and tell me how much you hate it, post something. It's better than nothing. ****xx BE**


	3. Exasperation

"Enjolras, you bastard!" A loud voice boomed from the cafe suddenly, breaking through the relative silence. A ripple of shock went through the men and women of the barricade; firstly, because of the sudden disruption, and secondly, because _someone had just insulted Enjolras._

Eponine looked up from a discussion with the man in question himself to watch as a student was frogmarched out of the front doors of the Cafe Musian by two of his fellow Amis. While she had not spent a lot of time around the revolutionaries, she had picked up on the general way things were run. No one had ever told her any rules, at least not officially, but she had caught on to many unspoken ones. The first and foremost of these was that _you did not insult the leader of the revolution_. For any reason. Ever. Enjolras was as much feared as worshiped, a figure who was both fearless and fearsome, often at the same time. The students showed him more respect than anyone Eponine had ever met in her entire life. He was still their friend, of course, but at the same time he was above them - not by his own doing, but by that of the others. He was the leader of the pack.

So naturally, it took an immense amount of either complete stupidity or bravery to say anything derogatory about him, and Eponine was quite curious to see who had done so.

The man looked livid. He was obviously a scholar like most of the others, judging from his age and easy terms with the schoolboys. He certainly looked quite familiar, almost more familiar than the others, for a reason she couldn't put a finger on. But while he was wearing the same expensive, fashionable clothing as his friends, he had a distinctly disheveled air about him; his hair was a matted black mop atop his head, and his shirt and trousers looked like they hadn't been washed in a week. While this could be expected in a time of revolution - many of the others' clothing sported similar wear - where the rest of the Amis' were caked in grime and blood, his just looked plain... dirty. Even Eponine, who had miraculously suffered no injuries in the prior battle, had bloodstains all over from Marius - a crippling pang of sorrow rushed through her at the thought - and those who had been shot around her. It was almost like he hadn't fought in the attack at all.

It occurred to her then that perhaps he hadn't. But if that was true, what was he doing there, and with so much insolence?

"Sorry about him," one of his escorts, Courfeyrac, said quietly to Enjolras as the man seethed in the background. "He's been in the cafe the whole time, dead drunk. You know how he is." He then turned to Eponine, addressing her only because she had been talking to the leader, she was sure. "I apologize in advance for his language, Mademoiselle." She was about to assure him that it was fine and not to worry when another outburst came from the drunk.

"What are you doing sending a girl out to be your spy, coward? Would you risk her life but not your own?" Enjolras, who Eponine surmised should be infuriated at that point, calmly turned towards the man and replied, "Grantaire, calm down. I've always told you to find out the details before you accuse."

So. The marble statue was friends with the drunk. What an interesting pair.

"What else do I need to know? You're a right ass, you know that? What kind of man sends out a girl in his place? You talk so high and mighty, yet you get young gamines to do your dirty work for you!" Eponine was pretty sure the man was just working himself into a rage, ranting just to rant at that point. Nevertheless, she was offended that any man, even an inebriated one, would think her lower than him just because she was female. She had been victim of such behavior for years, of course, but that didn't make it any more acceptable. Something needed to be done. This man was ridiculous. "I offered to go," she interjected, her face flushed a bright red. "Enjolras isn't making me do anything."

The angry man, Grantaire, slowly turned towards the revolutionary, his face bewildered. She would have found this comical if he wasn't so irritating. "God, really?"

Enjolras looked much less offended than he should have - certainly less than Eponine. If anything, he seemed bemused. Why was he not upset? "What she has said is the truth. I asked for a spy, and this girl offered. I don't see any reason for her not to go."

Eponine was mildly irritated that she had been called a girl when she was nearly the same age as them, but at the same time glad Enjolras had stood up for her. She _had_ offered, like she said, and she really, really needed the task as an excuse to get out of the barricade. If she was denied it, she could always make up some story and sneak out or something, of course. But if ease was a factor, playing Enjolras' "spy" was definitely the way to go. It was convenient and made her look much less suspicious.

As it was, before Grantaire had stormed out of the Musain, Enjolras had seemed very keen on the idea. He had not questioned the fact that she was a girl fighting on the barricade, or that she was dressed like a boy, or her behavior when Marius died. It was a relief for her - the less questions, the better. Others had seemed to be more curious, but when it came down to it the look on their leaders' face silenced them even before the words formed on their tongues. If Enjolras was okay with Eponine, they were too; at least, they pretended to be. But Eponine couldn't care less what the boys of the barricade thought of her. The only one whose opinion she had ever valued was Marius, and he was - _a stab of pain, emotional and seemingly physical in the same moment_ - dead.

_No, don't think of him. Focus._

Under normal circumstances she supposed Enjolras might not have accepted her proposal so readily. Certainly, he would have been doubtful of her just a few hours earlier. But after the attack, so many were injured and morale was low. Eponine realized just how lucky she was to have no wounds from the battle; almost everyone else seemed to have been at least grazed by a bullet or two. So naturally, since she was willing and unhurt, she was the optimal choice for reconnaissance, even if she was a girl. Enjolras couldn't turn down her offer. Before Grantaire had said anything, the leader had seemed rather keen on her going out to find out information about the opposing forces; they had been in an intent discussion, and it had looked like he trusted her enough to let her go. Hopefully the drunk hadn't changed Enjolras' mind. Having a plan, albeit a shady, deceitful one, gave Eponine a sense of direction. She felt overwhelmed by loss, but having a goal was one small glimmer of hope that she clung to. He couldn't say no now.

"You can't just let her go alone," Grantaire reprimanded, and Eponine was drawn back out of her thoughts and into the conversation at hand. He seemed slightly less upset, calmer. "Enjolras, it will be dark soon. The streets of Paris are not a safe place for young girls, especially at night and on their own."

Before Enjolras had a chance to reply, Eponine snapped, "I'll be _fine_." If he only knew how much time she had spent on the streets, how much danger she had faced and subsequently lived through. He wouldn't question her then.

"I have full confidence in Eponine," Enjolras agreed, shooting her a stern look. As if he thought he had her unwavering respect like one of the schoolboys. "She has proven her bravery during the attack today."

Grantaire was not appeased. "You could be sending her to her death."

_Au contraire, mon ami_, Eponine thought flippantly.

"You know I would never do that," Enjolras replied.

"This is not a good idea-"

"May I remind you of where you were this afternoon?" Enjolras retorted. For the first time, there was some steel apparent in his voice. "You have no basis for condemning another's abilities, considering you have not proven your own."

Grantaire's face went first white, then bright red, flushed with embarrassment. His mouth gaped, seemingly at a loss for words. Eponine felt a small thrill of triumph at his stupefaction; it served him right. Who was he for questioning her, when he had spent the day in a drunken sleep while the rest of them fought for their lives?

"Exactly." Enjolras' patience seemed to be wearing thin at last. He turned to Eponine again, taking a deep, calming breath as he did so, and dismissing Grantaire with the same motion. "I did not intend to resort to belittling," he muttered to himself, then, louder, "So, Mademoiselle, let us continue our previous discussion."

"Right," she agreed, both surprised that she had been referred to as Mademoiselle and relieved to be back on track so easily. She had no need to be worried about Grantaire after all. "What exactly do you want me to find out?" She had no real plans for retrieving information, of course, but she figured it couldn't hurt to play the part while she was still at the barricade. Once she left, though, spy Eponine would exist no more. Once she had her freedom, once she had escaped from this god-forsaken place, she would check up on her younger sister who lived with her parents still, then start life anew. There would be no going back to the barricade. The sight of the place alone made her heart ache.

She could not stay at the place where Marius had died.

She hoped to forget him in her new life. There was no way to hold on to the emotions she had surrounding him. She had been unsuccessful to push him from her mind in the past, but maybe things could be different now that he was... gone. Maybe his physical absence from her life would make him disappear from her heart. Eponine found herself hoping for such a miracle to occur. The mere thought of him made her want to curl up in a ball and lose herself in her misery, and she could not do that now that she had taken her life into her own hands. She had more important things to deal with. Like playing the spy for the revolutionaries.

"Observe, mostly," Enjolras told her. "Use your eyes to estimate how many soldiers they have - ask around if you must, but be cautious how you go." He paused for a second, gray eyes thoughtful. "I hate to pry, but you do know how to count, I assume?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "Of course." Yeah, maybe to fifty, but what did it matter?

Suddenly, though, Grantaire reappeared out of the blue. He seemed to disregard Enjolras' quiet disapproval, and spoke abruptly, looking excited. "I can go with her," he announced, looking towards Eponine, who recoiled slightly. "I'll help her find out about the National Guard. So she doesn't have to go alone."

_How cute. Trying to prove himself to his beloved leader._

"Absolutly not," she scoffed, while Enjolras said at the same time, "That sounds like a fantasic idea."

Eponine tried to hide her shock. What? It _was_? What was he thinking? Hadn't he noticed how repulsed she was by Grantaire?

"I don't need him looking out for me," Eponine said, suddenly panicked. She did not want this man with her. First off, he was a pain in the ass, and second, he would complicate her plan for a new life quite a bit. She had barely met him, yet she could hardly stand him - wasn't it apparent enough? Also, the feeling that she had seen him somewhere before, back when she hadn't known any members of the ABC society, kept nagging at her. Surely she would have remembered such a singular figure? It unnerved her. She hated not knowing.

"I think it's a fine idea," Enjolras replied. "You both have no injuries that need tending to here, and I admit I would feel better if you didn't go off on your own." Was the man blind? Had he gone completely insane?

"But you're drunk, right?" Eponine floundered for an excuse for Grantaire not to go, one that would make Enjolras see reason. Her scheme had been going so well until the alcoholic blundered in.

He shook his head, grinning. "Correction: I was drunk yesterday. I slept it off, I'm just fine now."

Eponine was seething. Could people even do that? She racked her brain for anything that would convince them to let her out without the companionship of Grantaire. Surely there was something.

"So, Enjolras?" the man prodded, expectantly. For someone who had been so furious at him earlier, his eyes gleamed with admiration when he said his friend's name. It was like his entire personality had shifted within the course of a few minutes. Eponine began to protest once more, but was cut off.

"We are decided, then," Enjolras nodded. There was a lamentable note of finality in his words. Eponine felt her spirits fall, all her former plans with them. "You may accompany Eponine on her errand. Now, if you would excuse me, I have other business to attend to." And the leader strode away just like that, without another word, completely ignoring the horrified look on her face. The drunk beamed.

"Yes," he hissed under his breath, looking elated. Inside, Eponine was screaming.

_Noooo!_

* * *

**So guys, you like? I love writing Eponine, I like to think she is quite sassy haha. And Grantaire... Do I need to say more? He's my favorite. He's so stinking devoted to Enjolras it's cute. Needless to say, there will be much more of both of them in this story.**

**So, on another note, I may not be able to update this for a while. I'm going on this retreat-like thing over the weekend, so I'll lose my main time to write. I'll see if I can get the next installment up before then, but I'm a painfully slow writer and soccer, school, and the spring musical are keeping me quite busy so I wouldn't count on it (if you care at all). Just a warning that the next chapter might not be up until Sunday afternoon at the soonest. I'm honestly probably the most disappointed about this, I really enjoy writing this story. **

**-Until next time, BE.**


	4. Agreement

"I just want to make something as clear as I can," Grantaire said. "It sounds harsh, but I am by no means here because of you. I'm not here to help you, or to make this mission unbearable for you, or anything. I'm here for me and me alone, so would you just stop pouting already?"

Eponine kicked a loose stone on the street and glared at the man walking beside her. Even when he was apologizing he sounded like a selfish ass. "I'm not pouting," she huffed, setting her jaw. Sure, she was upset about the situation, and she maybe hadn't been very talkative, but it in no way meant she was pouting. The word itself sounded so juvenile, like she was some little kid. The other boys her age were called men for fighting on the barricade and sacrificing themselves for a cause that had no hope, yet she was looked down on for having plans to start a new life. Okay, so the plans were shady and Grantaire didn't know about them. But still. She preferred the term "brooding". It was mysterious and vague and sounded much less like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum.

Grantaire gave an aggravated sigh. "Okay, then," he replied, in a voice that said anything but that. "Fine. I get that you're not happy about this, but you can just deal with it, okay?"

"This is me dealing," Eponine replied, in what she hoped was a cool, collected tone. She then returned to her brooding, both for practical purposes and to irk her companion.

There was a lot to think about, really. She had to figure out a way to give Grantaire the slip, which wouldn't be easy, considering that they had been given express instructions by Enjolras to stay together. While she had no reservations about parting and Grantaire probably didn't either, he would stick to her like glue since his beloved leader had told him to. It almost made her gag, thinking about his and the other Amis' undying devotion. She couldn't understand actually having faith in an authority figure. Ever since she had realized they were scum, her respect for her mother and father had been nonexistent, and the adults she had met since then were no better. Seeing the boys of the barricade look up to Enjolras like that was remarkable. Their commitment to the cause was admirable, to say the least, even more so because she could not understand it.

Well, there _had _been Marius. A lump formed in her throat. She could, in a way, understand Grantaire and the others. Even though Marius was... dead... she loved him more than anything and would go to the ends of the earth for him. Her loyalty to him was unwavering, even in... death.

_Get over that word_, she thought to herself harshly. _Stop being such a chicken about it_. But her internal fight just made her feel worse - if she wasn't kind to herself, who would be?

As they slipped through an alleyway - Eponine hoped Grantaire knew where he was headed, because she certainly did not recognize the streets of this part of the city - a large group of men passed by. While Grantaire kept walking, unaffected, Eponine shrank against a wall instinctively, letting them through. She watched as they passed, her eyes wide, and was surprised to see her escort waiting up for her. His face looked both sad and worried. "You don't have to do that every time someone walks by," he muttered, almost pitying, once the men were out of earshot.

"Do what?" she replied defensively, scowling. She wanted a lot of things, but pity was not one of them. And again, she was bothered by the notion that she had seen him before. She _had_, she knew she had, but she could not place him to save her life. It was driving her crazy.

"A group of students is nothing to be afraid of," he told her bitingly.

"I'm not afraid!" Eponine snapped, but in reality she was quite ashamed of her actions. It was a reflex that had kept her alive on the streets for years, avoiding others, even to the point of fearing them. In unfamiliar territory the habit had kicked in without her thinking. Unfortunately for her, it made her look like a coward, more of a little girl than ever. Grantaire had no reason to fear others, but sadly, she usually did.

"Whatever you say, darling."

Eponine bristled, trying not to let him see how his words were getting to her. For the first time, she wished she had just stayed at the barricade and died along with her happiness. It would have been so much easier.

"Don't call me that," she hissed. Every little thing he was doing was just infuriating her. How was it possible for one person to be so aggravating?

"All right, sweetheart." Grantaire grinned mischievously at her, obviously meaning it in jest. But he didn't realize just how done she was with everything.

"That's it," she said, throwing up her hands. "I'm finished with this mission. I'm out." Well. That was one way to get rid of his company.

Grantaire rolled his eyes, juvenile to the core. "I'm really not that bad when you get to know me," he smirked wryly.

Eponine stopped walking, trying to contain herself. She didn't want to make a scene and draw attention, but at the same time she couldn't stay with this man any longer. She had known him about an hour, and in that time she had decided that she absolutely hated him. Now that she was out of the barricade and away from controlling Enjolras, she had no reason to stay. She had intended to slip away subtly or something, but to hell with subtle. The time for that had come and gone. She was already worn paper-thin by the events of the day and she sure as hell did not need a drunkard mocking her on top of all her other problems.

"No, I'm done with this stupid pretense," she said. "I'm leaving. I'm sick of you, I'm sick of all this - and don't you dare touch my arm, I don't want your shame on me!" She wrenched away from his proffered hand, intended to be soothing but proving to just be provoking.

Grantaire's face fell a little at her last words, revealing some amount of insecurity on his part. "At least let me escort you back to the barricade," he said through gritted teeth, trying to stay a gentleman. "Enjolras would kill me if you got lost or injured."

Eponine let out a strained laugh at that. He was so naive it was almost funny. "You don't get it, do you? I'm not going back to the barricade, idiot. I'm _leaving_. I never intended to be a spy. If it weren't for you keeping me here I would be long gone by now. I'm not returning there," she pointed back to where they had come from, "for anything. Marius is _dead_," the words tore from her throat like bullets, but there was no stopping her now that she had started. "And I won't join him, got it? You and your beloved leader will be just like him come tomorrow, and I'm starting a new life for myself. So stay out."

Grantaire didn't bat an eyelash at her outburst. "You're staying right here," he told her, taking a step toward her. She in turn took two back. "I told Enjolras that I would stay with you. You're a pain in the ass, but I made a promise and you're not going anywhere, okay?"

"Watch me," she snarled, whisking around and starting back in the opposite direction. Her bare feet made silent steps on the cobblestones, but Grantaire was wearing boots and she could hear him coming after her. She anticipated it even as it happened, his hands grabbing her shoulders and turning her around suddenly, so they faced each other. Once again, reflexes kicked in, and she recoiled away from his anger, closing her eyes, waiting. She could take anything he threw at her, she told herself. She was used to her papa's beatings, a schoolboy could be no worse. Her courage summoned, she prepared for the worst, ready. But the blow never came. She opened her eyes, confused.

"Just get it over with already," she hissed. But then Grantaire, looming over her in his anger, stepped away and released his hold on her, realization passing over his features.

"Jesus," he whispered. "Jesus Christ, I'm not going to hit you." Eponine, too shocked to run, instantly regretted the decision as he grabbed her wrists. She struggled. "Damn woman, just stop for a second! I have a deal for you!"

"Let go of me!" she yelled, not obliging. "I don't want a deal! I'm done with deals!"

Grantaire grimaced. "You're just hurting yourself," he told her, still not letting go. "I don't want to have to injure you, okay? But I can make this worth your while."

Eponine stopped writhing all at once and pulled him to her by his wrists, her face close to his. "What will you give me?" she growled, mustering up all the ferociousness she contained. She needed to show him that despite what he had seen, she was not afraid of him or anything else. Nothing fazed a Thenardier. He needed to figure that out.

If she hadn't been in a rage, she might have realized that she had once spoken those same words to another student in a similar alleyway not long ago.

"I have money," he told her, wrenching himself away from her but not relinquishing his grasp on her wrists. "I'll pay you royally for your work, but _only if you stay with me_, okay?"

The word "royally" got her attention. "A thousand francs," she bargained immediately, the first sum that came to mind, before she had even decided to agree to anything. She imagined what she could buy with that kind of money - more than she had ever owned in her life, that was for sure. Not that she needed to be extravagant; she knew how to scrape by, and she could live on that amount for several years with plenty to spare. It was a glorious thought. "And half up front," she added, watching with satisfaction as Grantaire grimaced. He was fighting two evils - paying her for company that he didn't want, or disappointing Enjolras. She hoped beyond hope that he would pick the former. Suddenly, all her aspirations were riding upon it.

The money could be just what she needed to leave her miserable life behind.

"Fine," he agreed eventually. She let out a sigh of relief and tried to pull herself away from him, but he still did not release his grip. What was this guy's problem? "But," he began, in a way that signified that terms and conditions would soon follow, "You help me spy on the National Guard, then go back to the barricade with me, and I'll get you out only after Enjolras sees that you're alive and well, got it?"

She scowled. There might be no escape from the barricade if she went back. But the fact that he had agreed to a thousand francs... It was astonishing how easily he seemed to regard what was a small fortune to her. The money, if she had it, would change her life, she could tell. It was an opportunity she couldn't pass by. Anything was worth that much. Anything. She could bear his company for a little while longer if it meant the prospective future she had in mind. It would just be a few more hours, maybe a tiny bit of danger, then she would be free and her pockets heavier than ever. What was time to her - she had all the time in the world. There was no rush. And as far as danger went, she had survived her fair share. This was the opportunity of a lifetime. "Deal."

"You promise?" Grantaire stressed, squeezing her hands. She thought he might go into a panic attack if she didn't say anything. So, naturally, she let the silence fester for a moment before solemnly promising. She pulled away from his grip right as several men walked past; Grantaire tipped his hat at them, then when they were gone rummaged through a pocket and threw a small bag at her. She caught it deftly. It was heavy despite its size and jingled with countless francs.

"That's all I have on me," he said, almost apologetic, but not quite. There was still a biting tone to his voice. "It's a hundred, give or take a few, but when this is all over there will be more."

"Good," Eponine replied haughtily, pocketing the coin purse. She fought to keep the overwhelming excitement she felt inside of her - she could not bear to give Grantaire the satisfaction of seeing just how happy she was. Sure, it was far less than half, but Eponine had never owned so much money in her life.

She took a deep, calming breath. This was the beginning. She was leaving her parents, not Azelma, though, and Marius behind her. Starting from that moment, she had a future that maybe didn't involve crime. A future that involved hope.

As they began walking again, Eponine spoke up. "I still don't like you," she clarified bluntly. It wasn't necessary, but it felt good to say all the same. He needed to understand that she was doing this for herself, just like he was doing this for himself. And, she had to admit she wanted to feel like the one with the power.

"Me neither," the drunk agreed solemnly. And so they traversed on in silence, into the dying sunlight, and it never occurred to Eponine to think that he had been talking about himself.

* * *

**Wow. That was a hard chapter to write for some reason. It kind of took forever, so I hope you like it. (I think I do.) Anyway, reviews are welcome as always! -BE**


	5. Reunion

As Eponine and Grantaire went on their way, the light yielding to darkness, she began to notice a recurring theme in the people they passed. At first, the young men, ranging from tattered to eloquently-dressed, made no singular impression on her. It was not unusual to slip by people in the streets. Why should she take particular notice of them? Now that they had been walking for a while and she had regained some confidence, she no longer cowered away from them; they were just regular people, on their way to bars or houses, parents and children. It wasn't until Grantaire said anything that she looked twice at the passers-by.

"Eponine," he whispered urgently, tugging on the sleeve of her boy's jacket. "Next time we go by someone, listen to what they're talking about."

She pushed his hand away from her, practically hissing at the touch. "Why?"

"Just do it." He provided no further explanation, much to her annoyance, but she was curious and grudgingly did as he said. She strained her ears to infiltrate the next group of men that walked by. They spoke in hushed tones, but seemed excited, and were walking fast, grins on their faces. At first Eponine had no idea what Grantaire was getting at - the conversation seemed unremarkable. But just when she had written it off as being insignificant, she caught a few tell-tale words: "revolution", "fighting", and "ready".

She shared a dumbstruck look with Grantaire, momentarily forgetting her hatred of him in her surprise. Surely this couldn't mean what she thought it did.

"Hey, sir!" she called out to the next man who passed. "Where are you heading?"

The man was alone, despite being near her age. He seemed strong, obviously well-fed, and was immaculately dressed in the fashion of the day. His eyes widened under blue-tinted spectacles as Eponine hailed him.

"'Ponine?" he asked, his voice deep, pleasantly surprised. As Eponine recognized the man, though, she laughed at the irony. He was anything but pleasant.

"'Parnasse!" she whooped, forgetting the horrors of the day as she was swept up in his embrace. "What are you doing here?"

He spun her around, his hands on her waist, forehead pressed to hers. Their lips were a breath apart as they talked, as intimate as lovers - and, Eponine thought, they had nearly been so until recently.

"I should be asking you the same thing," he murmured, caressing her back. He shot a sideways glance at Grantaire, watching uncomfortably from the side of the street, not knowing what to do. The man gave a self-conscious smile, looking perplexed. "Who the hell is that?"

"A friend," she replied enigmatically. She figured it was not worth explaining the situation, especially if she had to tell Montparnasse how much she disliked the drunk. She had no good feelings towards him, but at the same time she did not want to be responsible for him being gutted on the end of Montparnasse's knife. The rogue took offense at anything that offended her - often more so than she felt herself. And he certainly had no aversions to murder.

"He better keep his hands off of you," he muttered gravely. In the background, Grantaire's face became even more worried.

"That's for me to decide and you to find out," Eponine replied coyly, nudging his nose with her own. The thought of any contact with the drunk whatsoever made her stomach churn, but it was well worth it to see Montparnasse be his overprotective self. As many faults as the man had, he watched out for her, jealously guarding her from other men. And, she had to admit, watching Grantaire squirm was equally amusing.

She thought of Marius, how she had not told Montparnasse of him, how she had hardly seen him since she met the young scholar. She wanted to laugh at the thought of his reaction at the news that she loved another man, and at the same time curl into a ball and cry for days. Sorrow pierced her like a knife. Montparnasse reminded her too much of her life before she met Marius. He was her fate, had the schoolboy not intervened.

"Oh? Where have you been recently?" Montparnasse asked, directing her attention back to him. "I haven't seen you about in a long time, not since we tried to rob Rue Plumet. And why are you dressed like that?" Eponine took about half a second to feel shame, knowing that Grantaire heard every word. Was he already aware of the fact that she had lived most of her life outside of the law? Surely he must have some inkling of it. "I missed you," Montparnasse added, quietly, almost tenderly. But Eponine knew the brute too well to fall for it. He hadn't had a tender moment in his entire life, not even when it came to her.

"I missed you too, you villain." As awful as the man was, he was still one of her closest friends. Her words were sincere. "And I've been avoiding Papa, mostly," she lied. "You know how he is." 'Parnasse nodded, his jaw set. Her father had threatened her life the last time she had seen him. "How's 'Zelma been? Beatings been too bad?" Again, she realized how horrible this must sound to Grantaire, with his comfy, rich life. She was positive he had never felt so much as a belt on his skin once in his life.

"He's been keeping away from her, mostly, I think," Montparnasse informed her. "But I wouldn't know, as I've been keeping away from him."

"Where are you going to?" She changed subject abruptly, reminded of why she had stopped to talk to him in the first place and the money she was earning at that very moment.

"I'm joining the revolution, of course."

Montparnasse - a revolutionary - that was positively hilarious. Eponine pulled away from him and burst out laughing. She would pay good money to see him fighting for a half-way decent cause.

"Good one, 'Parnasse," she laughed. "What are you _really _up to today? Blackmail? Robbery? Arson?"

His face was bemused as he replied again. "I was serious," he said. The laughter died from her. What? Who was this man and what had he done with the Montparnasse she loved? "I'm headed to one of the barricades right now."

His words confirmed what Grantaire had pointed out to her earlier. Despite the initial lack of volunteers, people were rallying to the cause. Presumably, the others they had passed had been on their way to the barricade, too. What did this mean? How was this happening? She had thought that surely no one would join the revolution. How many more were there?

"And why the hell would you do that?" she asked, suddenly angry. "Since when have you been interested in revolution?"

He shrugged indifferently. "I'm not. But revolution means killing, right?" He revealed a knife hanging from his belt. "It sounded interesting, and I'm an old pro, remember?"

This did not make Eponine any calmer. She had visions of Montparnasse lying side-by-side with Marius, both faces drained of color, cold as the cobblestones they rested on. This was a mistake. She could not lose two of her best friends - opposite in demeanor and intent and lives as they were - to one cause. Especially not on the same day.

"You'll get killed," she scolded. Montparnasse was a low-life, murdering, thieving bastard, but she could not let him just die. Even if she no longer returned his affections in the same way, she cared what happened to him. She couldn't let him get massacred with the others.

"I doubt it," he replied offhandedly. "I haven't yet." It was true. But still...

"What of Patron-Minette?"

"They've gone without me before. They can do it again. I'm sure they'll have fun looting dead bodies for the next few weeks." She was sickened by the thought.

But then again, that had been her life not too long ago. Anything to live, anything at all. It had only been a rare stroke of luck that had saved her from the same fate. There was still the chance of her returning to it again, if all did not work out. She shuddered at the thought.

"I'll be fine," Montparnasse assured her. "This revolution will be a good time - don't worry about me." But despite the fact that she didn't want to, she couldn't help it. It was natural for her to care about what happened to him - she would be inhuman if she didn't. She gently pressed one hand to his cheek, rough with stubble, searching his eyes. He was so familiar and handsome. And terrible.

"Just be careful," she said. He took her hand and rested it on his heart, leaning closer to her once more.

"You could come with," he whispered, their lips grazing slightly. "You could leave him-" Eponine realized with a start that Grantaire was still there "-and join up with me."

She was struck with the realization of what he was asking. Marius, with his good heart, had wanted her to leave the barricade, unselfishly. Montparnasse wanted her to join him, for his own twisted reasons. They were such opposites of each other that it hurt.

His hands were wandering now, and Eponine decided it was time to go. There was no reason to explain that she was already far too involved in the revolution. He didn't need to know - he would probably find out anyway. "Goodbye, 'Parnasse," she murmurered. "Be careful."

He just laughed.

* * *

**I'm at the point in the brick where you start to meet Montparnasse. He's not a good guy at all, but I kind of love him. I think he actually cares about Eponine a little, maybe in a kind of lusty way, but still. And she's partially aware of how much of an awful person he is, to an extent, but still really naive, considering. I like writing them. I like how horrible they are for each other. Also how uncomfortable Grantaire is with watching them interact hahaha. **

**Also, sorry this update took so long. I'm so ridiculously busy. I meant for this chapter to have more in it, but I just wanted to get something up. Sorry if it's brief or confusing or something. The next chapter will be a direct continuation of this one - this may as well be chapter 5a. Thanks for all the positive feedback! xxBE**


	6. Empathy

**This is basically a direct continuation of the last chapter.**

* * *

Eponine tried not to let her gaze linger on Montparnasse as he continued down the alleyway, toward Enjolras's barricade. She could not shake the feeling that he was walking towards certain death. She knew that he was more than capable of taking care of himself; he was cunning and ruthless, and every bit of a murderer as he said he was. But still. Anything could happen at the barricade. She had seen things there that day that she had never wanted to see, death in its most raw, unrefined state. It was horrible. Her heart shattered a little more every time she thought of Marius and his fate. Just that morning he had been alive, jubilant, as blind to her as ever but still very much full of life. He had had so much ahead of him. Eponine had never intended for him to be the one to die, at least not first - she had come to the barricade to join him in death. But she had held him in his arms as his life expired, and here she was, still very much alive. All of her former plans were reversed, so she had to make new ones.

Of course, she did not love Montparnasse as she had loved Marius, but she did not want to have to learn that he had been shot in battle. She wanted more than anything for him to turn around and run back - back to thieving and murder, to Patron-Minette and her despicable father, even. Anything that would keep him alive. But he did not, and she fully did not expect him to. She wished he would stay out of the fighting, but she knew he would not and that there was nothing she could do to protect him.

_I haven't really helped him stay alive, though, have I?_ she thought sadly, turning over his knife in her hands. She had pulled it from his belt during their final embrace. Grantaire eyed it, confused, but she felt no shame. They needed it more than Montparnasse did. At the barricade there were more weapons that would be at his disposal, guns that could do much more damage than a simple knife. Eponine smiled wryly at how delighted he would be to use them. But out on the streets, his knife could be her only defense. Surely her old friend could not deny her such a basic need; she would use it later, too, once she had severed her ties with this revolution. She pocketed it carefully.

"Who was that?" Grantaire asked as they moved on towards their mission. Eponine glanced back over her shoulder one last time - she couldn't help it - to see a dark jacket moving down the alley.

"Old friend," she mumbled. All of her spirit had been drained from her encounter; she was worried about him, and she was exhausted. She just wanted to take a break from life for a minute, sleep, forget the anguish in her heart that had returned so suddenly. And she certainly did not want to have a discussion with her companion about her old life.

"So this is really happening," Grantaire said quietly, almost in awe.

"Pardon?"

"I can't believe people are actually joining the revolution," he clarified, shaking his head.

This caught Eponine's attention. "Why so surprised? I thought that's what you always expected to happen. Wasn't that the plan all along?"

He threw his head back, laughing coarsely. "I've never believed in this revolution at all!" he crowed. "I never expected anything to happen. I thought we were all going to die - scratch that, I still think we're all going to die." He laughed again, and Eponine furrowed her eyebrows slightly. This was news to her.

"I thought all of you believed in this," she said. "You all hang on Enjolras's every word. I figured everyone on the barricade was as devoted as him."

"They are now that I'm gone," Grantaire replied. This man was an enigma. Eponine didn't want to hold a conversation with him - she didn't want to engage in any remotely friendly activities with him at all, but she was curious. She had just assumed that all the revolutionaries actually cared about the revolution.

_Guess I was wrong._

"Then why did you even join Les Amis de l'ABC?" she asked, giving in to the need to know. "If you don't care at all, what were you doing risking your ass at the barricade? Even if you were dead drunk the whole time?"

Grantaire seemed to stiffen at the last remark; it was still obviously a tender spot for him. Eponine filed that away in her mind for later. He seemed to think about his reply carefully before answering. "I believe in Enjolras," he said slowly, not meeting Eponine's eyes. "Just not the revolution." He fell silent for a moment, before adding hurriedly, "but c'mon, it's not like you believe in it a hundred percent, right? I mean, when you joined, you couldn't have thought that it was going to succeed?"

Eponine almost laughed. She debated not telling him the truth, but what did it matter? After their reconnaissance mission was through, she would presumably never see him again. It wasn't like he could hold it against her or something.

"I was never here for the revolution," she admitted. "I dressed up like this," she gestured to her blood-stained boy's outfit, "to be with Marius." To her mortification, her voice broke on his name. She hadn't even thought before she had said it. The last thing she wanted was to break down in front of this man whom she detested - from his pitying eyes, she could tell that he had noticed. Eponine did not dare say more. She did not want to lose her head, and she had already said too much. She could not venture into the realm of deep emotions with this man.

He seemed to realize several things as she talked. Dawning crossed his face as he said, quietly, "You're the one who followed him around." She balked, then nodded. Out of nowhere she was struck once more with the feeling that she had seen him before; she didn't even bother to try to place him this time. It would come to her eventually. At least, she hoped so. She was dying to know where he fit in her past.

His expression softened as he looked at her. Instinctively, she shied away from his gaze - she did not want his compassion. She did not want him to help her wallow in self-pity; she already had plenty to spare, than you very much. Eponine wanted to escape from it, not sink into it. As it was, she couldn't afford to sink.

In a seemingly random act of kindness, her companion pulled out a flask from somewhere on his person and offered it to her wordlessly. She sniffed its' contents and caught a very strong whiff of alcohol. "What is this?"

"Brandy." Eponine eyed it warily; she was tempted to take it, but she had never had a real fondness for spirits. Living at the inn for the first several years of her life, she had encountered plenty of alcohol. Though her mother kept her and her little sister, Azelma, away from drinking, her father didn't care if she had any as long as he didn't have to pay for it. On occasion, when it had been an especially bad day, she would persuade one of the men of the inn to buy her something alcoholic. She had no problems with being drunk, really. It was usually a good time, and everything seemed hilarious for a while; it was when she woke in the morning with a pounding headache and memories of the night before that she would regret her decision. She did things while drunk that she would never do sober, and for Eponine, that was unbearable. She had to be in control as much as possible.

So she eyed the brandy warily - where had he even gotten it from? - and then pushed it away, muttering, "No thanks." Grantaire shrugged and took a swig for himself.

"More for me," he told her jovially, and she wondered fleetingly if, perhaps, he had been one of the men at the inn to buy her drinks. It would explain why her memory of him was so clouded, and it certainly seemed to fit with his inebriated ways. She dismissed the thought immediately, though. No, that was too far in the past, and why would Grantaire have been in Montfermeil anyway?

"Why do you do that?" she asked, not bothering to hide her disdain.

Grantaire fixed her with a puzzled look. "Do what?"

"Drink," she replied. "Why do you like it so much?"

He laughed cynically and took another gulp of spirits before answering with a question. "Why do you think?"

This man was an idiot. Why had Enjolras wasted his time including him in the revolution? "Because it makes you happy? Because you just love waking up in the morning with a pounding headache and no memory of the night before?"

He gave her a sideways look. "You could say that." There was a disconcerting undertone of honesty to his words, once you got past the bitterness. It bothered Eponine. He wasn't really serious, was he?

"What's so great about it?" she pried. In recent months she had viewed drinking as an escape from her uncontrollable feelings for Marius, but had never gotten her hands on anything remotely alcoholic. She hadn't had time, really, what with helping him find him love and all. But if given the chance, she probably would have accepted a drink in a heartbeat.

What had changed since then?

"When I'm drunk, I forget." Grantaire didn't specify what, but Eponine was struck with a conviction that those were the most truthful, heartfelt words he had ever spoken to her in their short time together. Just by his tone of voice she could tell that there was a weight in the meaning, somewhere, something deeper than the man she had seen previously. She wondered absently what it was - what could a rich young boy with the world handed to him on a silver platter possibly feel anguish about? For about half a second, her heart went out to him - then she quickly reigned it back in. He did not want her pity, and she had none to share.

She looked at him, studying the brown bottle in his hand. Forgetting sounded nice. She didn't want to get completely wasted, but maybe a couple swigs of brandy couldn't hurt. She couldn't let him have it all to himself and get drunk while they were on their mission, right?

"On second thought, give me that," she said, taking the bottle from him and throwing it back before she could change her mind. It was warm from the summer heat, and she could swear she felt it as it traveled through her entire body.

Grantaire snatched the brandy back selfishly, but she could have sworn she saw something resembling admiration in his eyes when he looked at her.

It was then that the two stumbled into the Place de la Bastille, where the National Guard was camped out. Two pairs of eyes widened in shock at the sight before them.

"Oh holy hell," Grantaire muttered, shoving the bottle of spirits back into his coat pocket.

There were thousands of soldiers swarming the square. Everywhere she looked, Eponine saw the uniform of the National Guard. Men sat around waiting for orders for attack, casual in the light of the lamps that lined the street. They were everywhere. She had begun to think that maybe, with so many going to the barricades in favor of the revolution, that there was a slim possibility of it succeeding. It wasn't a large one, but it existed.

Now that she had seen the forces the Amis were up against, she changed her mind immediately.

"They don't stand a chance," she whispered.

* * *

**So I'm actually putting some research into this story now. Fun, heartbreaking fact: on the June Rebellion Wikipedia page, it talks about Victor Hugo and how he wrote about the revolution. The picture accompanying the article is of Eponine dying in Marius' arms. :'( **

**Also, I love everyone who has followed or supported this story in any way! I was amazed to see that the followers on this went up by like ten since I posted 5a. You are all amazing, feel free to drop me a review (or just a rant about Les Mis feels, those are perfectly fine too). xx BE**


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